Breach of Intention
by Leviathian
Summary: It was unspoken, but some pirate crews and mermaids had an unspoken solidarity. Pirates throw their enemies overboard, and the merfolk will take care of them. mer!ace au. T for some violence, marco/ace endgame
1. Chapter 1

Happy Birthday Ace! And Happy New Years Readers!

* * *

It was all in good fun, until it wasn't.

Or rather, it had all been strategy at first. Let the people above the surface believe what they want to be true; that merfolk are dainty, delicately scaled creatures deep in the ocean. Little pearls, little prizes, far out of reach. Beautiful and rare and a lovely, lovely mystery.

Something to marvel at. Something to wonder about. Something to want to be closer to, just an inch, just a foot–

Knee deep in the waters, just to catch a glimpse.

Perfect. What was better?

It couldn't be easier, to nab a meal willingly strolling towards you.

No, it was beneficial at first. What was better than a positive stereotype, to so _thickly_ veil over the truth? To have your food jumping overboard for a chance to be just that little bit closer to a living legend? Sabo had thought it was brilliant when Ace had told him the reality of his people. When he had swam closer and flexed his claws for the blond to see, flashed his teeth in a grin meant only for smiling, at the moment. The first human Ace had ever risked beaching himself for, without the reward of something to sink his jaws around.

It was perfect. It was genius. Something so easily taken advantage of– how could it go wrong? All Ace had left from his parents were the stories humans told about mermaids to protect him, and it had done a fantastic job his entire childhood. It should have been no problem, swimming into the streams farther inland to spend time with Sabo.

Human children were completely harmless to Ace– and even if Sabo would make an easy meal, with his endless curiosity and enthusiasm, Ace found himself never wanting to take that bite. He was in no danger. Nor was he hungry enough to try. Besides, Sabo was too young to have much other than stringy flesh and fat– and the thought of eating _children_ put a bad taste in his mouth even if he had still been a fry. The bandits living on the island were ones Garp had told him to go to whenever he was hungry and they did a good job– dumping enough food into the waters for him to take care of that he was never starving, even if he wasn't catching enough fish himself.

Far on the side of the island, drifting under the shade of the forest in the shallows and well-fed, Ace was plenty fine to stay as he was. Sabo made good company. The only company Ace got that liked him no matter what he was– more for what he was and not just because of stupid fairy tales. Company that actively _enjoyed_ being with him. That didn't see Ace as something to gape at.

...Or as a prize to be won. Or _bought._ Though that was never as vivid a concern as it was now. The way humans gasped when he streaked past a little too close to the surface, made him distinctly uncomfortable.

(_Sabo,_ spelled out the scar carved into Ace's bicep. A streak of pale skin, where the scales peppering his shoulders had never grown back. Sometimes he wondered if Sabo would have made it out if Ace hadn't yelled for him to jump into the ocean to escape Goa that day they had been caught. The day that Sabo was found and Ace had been spotted, been _grabbed_ for just the same, been introduced to excited gleaming eyes shining in a way wholly removed from the childish excitement and interest Sabo openly gave him.)

(He wondered, sometimes, if Sabo would still be alive if he had just stayed up in his own little fairytale of a tower and never met the sunset-colored story swimming in the nearby reefs.)

_Lesson learned,_ Ace figured. He flicked his tail out harshly, racing through the water. Even long after leaving Goa, meeting others like him, relearning the new words to the stories he still had at heart, he had never truly been able to connect with another human. Luffy had kick-started it all, with his talk about _good humans_ and _pirates_ and something else Dadan huffed out as "_mutualism"_ with a disdainful scoff no more harsh than her usual bark.

Ace had yet to actually meet many "good" _humans,_ much less pirates.

(Not that he was exactly going out of his way to do something like _reveal_ himself to them. No, his vibrantly warm colors would do better muted at the bottom of the ocean. At least until whatever ship above passed far out of sight.)

He had _heard_ plenty, of course. Ace wasn't about to interact with another human willingly. There weren't exactly many reasons worthy of risking being bottled up like a beta in a fish tank, but he kept up with Luffy and his adventures and had a wealth of new little intel about what made a "good" pirate from a bad.

Turns out, there was a whole _list_ dedicated to it. Ace hadn't gotten to find out until he had finally swam past the Calm Belt and into the Grandline, but the Sun Pirates, back in Fishman Island, had taken special care to make sure what crews on the list were distributed far and wide in the Grandline. What crews didn't try to take merfolk for their own sick entertainment. Which ones dumped their bodies overboard.

_Like Shanks,_ Ace thought, _...and Gol D. Roger._ He hated to admit it, but if his dear old dad hadn't had the type of crew to follow exceptions with merfolk then he wouldn't have been born. Rouge had been a well-known mermaid, after all. One with siren qualities strong enough to leave a legend in her wake. He doubted she would have left Roger alive, and have Ace be born at all if she didn't like him.

There weren't many crews that merfolk didn't have to worry about though. The majority of humanity had turned wonder to greed so fast that everyone that could have spread the news wasn't– wasn't _around._ Now they had the sun pirates to make reports, and maintain official lists. But it took years of imprisonment and slavery before Fisher Tiger came around to even start that. Fishmen, Merfolk– no one was safe on the surface anymore. Mermaids who got too careless, who got too relaxed. Fishmen just stepping on land for a break, for a conversation. Suddenly what was beneficial turned around and became a massive epidemic of missing merpeople. Rouge herself had been chased down for her beauty, for her charms— and the baby in her belly.

...and how _pretty_ wouldn't they look together, a beautiful mermaid and her vulnerable baby fry, trapped in a nicely decorated tank in some human mansion? Sabo had been a rarity of his own, a decent human among filth. Ace doubted he'd ever meet another human like him. Not amid Celestial Dragons. Not enough to ever hope for open seas again, if he was captured.

(Rouge had died for the sake of his freedom. He would never risk it again.)

He was falling behind. Ace picked up speed, streamlining his body forward until he could press his hand against the smooth underside of the massive ship.

Not all pirates were good. Not all pirates could be trusted. Not all pirates liked merfolk. But Ace had seen the insignia, rippling above the surface, and he had heard enough stories about the Whitebeard pirates to outshine every other crew. Even Shanks'. Why avoid the crew that protected his homeland?

Besides. He could _smell_ the blood in the water. The air was thick with intent, so thick it took effort for him to press up above the waves. A free meal, with company that he could _almost_ trust not to kill or capture him. What was better?

He could hear them yelling, far above the surface. The lingering vibrations of gunshots and footsteps, rippling through the sturdy wood and into the water made his ear fins twitch.

A disturbance in the water.

Ace's fins flared wide. He reached out with a single snap of his tail, dorsal fins brushing cold open air and claws snagging into a flailing, warm body. The uniform was coarse and white. Blue trim, boots. Ace clicked in delight. The marine in his claws was still struggling, his screaming muffled to Ace's ears from the film of seawater and Ace indulgently poked his eyes up above the surface to meet terrified eyes– and froze as brilliant azure exploded overhead. His meal's shaking and shrieking was suddenly not– not _important,_ not when Ace's gaze caught on blazing blue and gold, on a tanned face and glowing light and a familiar symbol inked onto a toned chest.

_Oh. _

_Pretty._

Golden tail feathers brushed Ace's face.

… _and human. Barely. But human. _

Startled out of his trace, he jerked back and tore back below the surface, his lunch going choked and silent with him.

* * *

Still hovering above where the merman had disappeared, Marco grinned with uncharacteristic _delight._ "_Merman!"_ He called, over the shouting and echo of gunshots, "There's a mer in the waters!" Immediately, his brothers started up a roaring cheer. Swords in the air, guns up– Whitebeard cackled as he finally rose from his seat. "Dump every body overboard! Don't be rude!"

Marco swooped down to snag a marine shooting at him between his talons. "No hard feelings," He said casually, and, keen eyes spotting a tell-tale flicker and splash of blood, dunked his offering below him.

Immediately the spot of red flickered under the surface. Marco retreated a small distance, just enough to keep the young merman from getting too spooked. He had met his fair share of merfolk already, and knew they had no qualms about his crew– but maybe he had startled the mythical before he could get the chance to talk to him and that wasn't–

That same dark head of hair poked out of the waves. Fair cheeks flecked with vibrant sun-colored scales, eyes wary and so, so _silver_ peered up at him. Marco didn't even flinch at the sight of sharp claws slipping soundlessly out of the water to latch onto the new snack trying desperately to swim away from him. "_Hey," _He said just a little breathlessly. "I'm Marco."

There wasn't a response, but the mer's ear fins perked up a little. Red speckled shoulders uncurled the slightest amount. Losing just a tiny bit of that defensive body language. Marco smiled encouragingly. "Want to help out? You get free pick of the enemy, we'll throw them over for you." It was unspoken for most merfolk, but Marco felt the strange need to _say_ it. As if it would make any difference– he doubted the other hadn't done exactly this before– and yet he hoped…

"...Can do," the mer hissed out. The words clicked and whistled a little through his open gills and Marco watched in fascination as they shivered shut around that bare throat. He pressed his lips tightly together for a moment before his ear fins turned outward. Flaring straight forward, fanning out and performing a sort of wiggling motion Marco had only seen merfolk do to each other; "My name is Ace, Marco."

A wide smile, hesitant but broad– and full of teeth dangerous enough to crunch through bone. The marine whimpered pitifully, frozen in Ace's grip.

Marco gulped. _This is unfair. I should not be attracted to that, probably. _

Ace gave him a wild grin, half threatening and half– The marine screamed, flailing in panic as the merman ripped a chunk out of his shoulder. Marco shuddered. "You've got a deal," He sang around a mouthful of flesh, and Marco swerved to dodge an arch of seawater as that bright tail flicked out of the water to take Ace out of sight, meal and all.

Marco took a deep breath, watching those last sparkling flashes of red sink lower, and dazedly returned to the Moby dick. Whitebeard took one look at his face and broke out into a loud guffaw that colored his ears bright red. "Introduce me after," He ordered, poking a broad fingertip into Marco's chest, "I want a new son by the end of tonight," and returned to humming as he used his bisento like a broom to sweep marines off the deck.

"You heard Pops." Marco jumped, spinning around to find Thatch's face barely an inch from his and _far_ too smug.

"How long have you–"

Thatch dodged a swipe of Marco's wing, ducking and scrambling out of range to holler at the top of his lungs– "You better treat that mer right boys! We gotta get our first commander _laid_ tonight!"

Marco snarled, kicking a marine so hard the man went down with a sickening _crunch_ and a cut off shriek. They were still trying to jump from their ship over onto the Moby Dick even after Whitebeard had shattered their boarding bridge to splinters and it was getting _annoying._ Did they really not know any better? He was going to enjoy feeding their idiot captain to Ace– "I'm not going to proposition a random merman I _just–" _

A loud splash caught his attention. Marco's head snapped up, wings already raising to cover his siblings for a blow– and instead was left gaping as Ace streaked out of the water in a powerful arc of sparkling red and orange scales. With fins clamped tight to his body he shot like a large and lethal bullet. He careened straight into one of the marines jumping across ships, dangling mid-air for the taking and Ace _took._ His teeth and claws ripped into the human, tearing them both out of the air and landing back into the ocean with a decisive little ripple of water and a plume of vivid red.

Marco was _speechless._

Someone might have shot him, or stabbed him, in the time he spent standing there openly gaping. He could vaguely hear his entire crew whooping with animalistic excitement around him. He was left blinking at Thatch as the chef pat his back, expression practically glowing with glee. "Good taste as always, bro," He whispered. "Never seen a mer jump that high. Maybe he'll be able to drag you out of the sky if you're not careful!" He swaggered away, swords still in hand and laughing hysterically as Marco just stared dumbly after him.

...He was admittedly a little too embarrassed to admit he was kind of into that.

* * *

Admittedly this is based off a tumblr post about pirate/mermaid mutuality haha... ha..

Oda refused to give us more monstrous, man-eating, siren-esque merfolk and that was a Coward Move on his part.

Find me on Tumblr as Leviathiane!


	2. Giving Trust

Ace hadn't been so full for _days_. Not since he had fought that one Sea King, and that was almost a whole week ago. The Grand Line was teeming with food near everywhere Ace turned, whether it was human, fish, or Sea King. Resources were endless if you knew where to look.

Granted, the Blues all had easy human pickings, but it took a decent patch of an island's population to sate his appetite. Enough of a population to bring notice. Enough to make enemies. (Enough to alert a Celestial Dragon. Ace should never have been allowed to grow up in the Blues–)

It was better to stay in the Grand Line. Human meat became a little more rare, with how much stronger even normal citizens were, but he was more than capable enough to take down a sizable leviathan in their stead. Ace was pretty sure the monsters were aware of him. Too long in one area, and Ace was struggling just to catch a movement in the dark. He had never thought Sea Kings were particularly smart, but they did a decent job of avoiding him during the day and Ace wasn't built for night hunting. He wasn't a deep-water Mer. Ace's eyes and colors were not built for the night– it usually was enough to rely on hunger luring one close enough to try and steal a bite. A ravenous meal was one that was dangerous, but _so was Ace._

Now though, he didn't have to worry about that. Not for the moment at least. Whether the "official" status of the Whitebeard Crew was true or not, they made an amazingly endless meal ticket. By the time the Marines had tried to cut their losses and surrender, Ace was surrounded by an entire buffet of bleeding men. The water still smelled so good.

...A little _too_ good. He knew once the sharks started drifting in that he'd need to leave before bigger leviathans showed up as well. One or two he could take on, but five? Seven? _Ten?_

The Whitebeard's ship was still anchored in place. Ace should have figured they wouldn't exactly need to worry about Sea Kings no matter the number. But Ace couldn't afford that sort of luxury, not without a pod of his own. _Guess I'll be leaving them behind._ He swam up to the hull. Somehow, it felt solemn to him. The wood was still so nice, wave-smoothed and vibrating with life under the sensitive membranes between his fingers._ I... wouldn't mind seeing them again. If I eat this well, at least._

(He wouldn't mind if he saw Marco again. If he got to watch him soar. Even after Ace had eaten his fill he had hovered just under the surface, fins flared wide, to watch those sparkling blue flames barrel their way across the sky. He had never seen anything like it.)

Ace shook his head. His hand felt cold, his chest tight and empty as he hesitantly swam away from the ship. _I'm not supposed to trust a pirate, even if these are... okay._ Even if they were on the "official" list. Letting them see him, talking to them— wasn't that _enough?_ Didn't it already take so much out of him? Didn't humans already take enough for him?

Ace hovered, swimming back and forth. He couldn't seem to pick a direction. Why was he so _upset?_ Ace couldn't afford to keep getting distracted, he could pick up the faint vibrations of much larger monsters moving through the waters towards him.

Still gently treading, Ace needled at his lower lip carefully. He didn't want to leave so many bodies behind; that was another day's worth of food. With Ace's appetite, it was always best when he could take as much with him as possible, but that would mean he would drag the blood with him as well. A clear trail to follow. What if he got cornered on some shallow reefs? Then it was between the humans and the Sea Kings and that was just a choice between which monsters to sacrifice himself to—

A thin splash, both heftier and far more agile than any of the bodies. The kind of splash made by someone who had dived. Ace swung his head around, ear fins keenly flaring to catch the vibrations of a distinct swim pattern, one much more practiced, streamlined. Familiar, almost.

The first things he saw were teeth and gills.

Ace relaxed. "Hey there!" He clicked, waving. It unsettled him a little how easily he was relieved in the face of someone like him. Suddenly a little self-conscious, he plucked one of the bodies out of the current and held it out to the other. "Want any? I didn't know you were with them, I would have offered sooner." Insatiable he may be, Ace was nothing if not polite. It wasn't as if he could finish all of the marines in time anyway, and it never hurt to ask. Even if Fishmen didn't usually eat human flesh.

Ace was suddenly glad he hadn't gotten the chance to offer before. If he had carelessly shared, when his crew could hear… Ace had seen what happened to Fishmen who hadn't told their crew they also ate humans. "Official Protectors" did not guarantee that the Whitebeards would be fine with one of their own eating their species even if they were enemies.

"I'm okay," the man said, waving him off politely. "I've already eaten, but thank you. I'm Namur." Namur. The name whistled through him, gentle like a rolling undertow and Ace smiled. He liked it. Namur seemed happy to see this, for some reason. As if he could guess Ace's content— which was kind of weird, considering it was just a name and why would he look so sad for a name? "Are you alone out here? You're the first Mer we've seen for a while now, and the others were traveling in small pods for safety."

Normally such a question would be alarming. Even from a Fishman, Ace should be more than a little cautious. Asking if he was lone was a red flag– Hell, mentioning that they had seen other pods was a red flag. Who knew what context those reminders were in? Or maybe it was purposeful, a pointed ploy to make Ace more susceptible––

But this was a _Fishman,_ one on Whitebeard's crew, and maybe Ace _had_ been alone for a while now.

Months, Years, how long had it been? Even the rise and fall of the sun didn't seem to be enough, when all Ace had were brief stories from strangers overheard half-submerged in the dark, and memories of Sabo, and thoughts of his smallest brother. His little brother who had just been a fry when he left him around Dawn— who fended for himself just as easily as Ace but was _reckless_ and _stupid_ and maybe saw social nuances but decided they were too worthless to not befriend whatever random human he saw—

"I'm alone," he murmured. For a long time. _Even in company, I feel so alone._

(He was fine with that, wasn't he?)

Namur was quiet for a moment. Ace fidgeted, claws flexing around the body forgotten in his hands. It had admittedly been a long time since he last interacted with anyone past eating them– and even longer since Ace had seen another Mer or Fishman. Very few like him were ever so close to the shallows now, especially in the upper half of the GrandLine as he was. It wasn't his fault that he was having trouble reading Namur. Besides, the man wasn't about to try and fight him. He wasn't a human, after all.

Lost in his thoughts, Ace missed Namur's next question.

"H-huh?"

"Will you come with us?" No preamble. Namur's face was set and still. He didn't react even as Ace wheeled back in shock, the body falling limply from his hands. No surprise, no anger, no startled grab for Ace. It was all that kept him from launching himself into deeper water. "...Just until you find a pod. Unless you want to hang around– you know we won't turn you away, right? All Merfolk are under Pops' protection." It was so matter-of-fact– almost like a reprimand. As if Ace was a child being scolded for not doing his chores, but with all the gentleness of something that made Ace distinctively– just– "The records of protection are official, you know. I've seen them myself."

_Just what are you trying to convince me of?_

"No, I don't think I will," Ace said carefully.

Namur just nodded at him. Ace stared as the Fishman turned back to the boat. Not a glance back, as if– no, there was no way Namur could see the way Ace's shoulders fell. Not the way his tail stuttered and stilled, not the way his fins relaxed.

Ace was alone. The anchor was already lifting. Namur– the entire crew had just blindly accepted Ace's rejection and didn't even ask why.

It was a risk just to remain in their waters no matter if a Fishman had vouched for them. Ace had seen what slavery could do to some people, maybe Namur had been goaded into trying to coax Ace up and out of the water. It had happened before. Desperation and pain could force someone to do anything._ I don't know how Luffy does it, making as many human friends as he does._

(A wholly human crew. Or well... most of it. He had a reindeer, when Ace last checked in— a reindeer, a skeleton, a _cyborg—)_

(...Maybe his little brother wasn't actually the weirder one on that crew.)

Ace waited until he was gone before hastily gathering up everybody he could, wrapped tightly in a makeshift net of wet cloth and torn uniforms, and tore after the ship before it could leave him behind.

They didn't have to know he was there. As long as Ace swam under the hull, and ducked out of sight, the crew would never even be aware of him. Enough bodies would hit the water to keep Ace fed, with the strength and status of the crew. Anything they couldn't supply him with Ace could manage off any wandering fish and small Sea Kings. Maybe they'd even stop by a town. He hated singing, but it would work in a pinch.

They didn't need to know.

Ace told himself that it was just his stomach leading him forward.

* * *

Marco was excited.

His siblings kept casting him knowing little glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Marco wasn't even trying to stop them– not until Thatch very indiscreetly tried to slip half a fish down his shirt. Even that failed to dampen his mood.

For days now, every night, Marco could feel the little blip of an aura slowly drift up to the surface. It followed them effortlessly, swimming along the blindspot provided by the hull.

Ace wasn't very inconspicuous.

Marco doubted the Mer would be happy to know that Marco was keeping an eye on him, but a part of him was near worryingly giddy to know that the Merman had chosen to tail the Moby Dick. Any concerns he had kept about a vengeful Mer had faded very quickly. Call him biased, but Marco was pretty certain Ace wasn't about to start singing his brothers overboard. Not when he was dutifully avoiding any chance of them spotting him.

(Marco would not admit to having been lengthening his nightly flights, hoping that the fractured light of his feathers off the water would be enough to catch a glimpse of sunset orange.)

Surely Ace _knew_ Marco could sense him? Surely he could feel it? Whitebeard himself had been careful not to probe, but all of Marco's siblings that could use haki was keeping an eye on the Mer. They were barely trying to hide it. He had thought that the continued disposal of bodies overboard would have been enough to clue Ace in.

...Apparently not. Then again, maybe Ace just didn't trust them enough yet.

That was fine. More than fine, really– Marco should have been happy that Ace wasn't naive or reckless enough to just cling to a crew of strangers no matter the reputation. It was a good sign. A trusting Mer couldn't be a free Mer. But damn, was it _frustrating_.

Marco had given up trying to pretend he wasn't very attracted to the leviathan under the floorboards.

How could he not? The phoenix wouldn't say he was easily led on, but a flash of those canines and a flick of fins and he was honestly considering the pros and cons of asking Ace to eat him if it meant he could see the Merman again. It was just a physical fascination. Marco was an older man and he wasn't about to admit he had so quickly garnered feelings for someone he had met only once. Maybe with time, but...

Marco absentmindedly kicked the shattered and bloodied remains of a Marine's gun off the deck, watching it splash far below him. The depths churned.

No flash of red, though Marco felt the aura under the ship rise inquisitively before drifting down again. It was like goading a wild animal closer. He would never say that, of course. Marco doubted Ace (or Namur, frankly) would be excited to hear Marco compare him to anything less than an absolute equal. It was just too sensitive a topic. Even if it was mostly true. Ace was less a puppy and more a monster, after all– but weren't they all?

A hand clapped Marco's back and he barely refrained from flickering up in blue even as his father's familiar touch cloaked him. He did still end up ducking a little. "You're looking a little _starry-eyed,_ son."

The man was cackling. His captain was outright– _"Pops,"_ Marco hissed, low and long-suffering. Blood rushed up his cheeks as the presence he was still absentmindedly tracking wavered a little closer to the surface, drawn by their voices. "Pops," He said again, more hushed, "You should be in _bed."_ Whitebeard's regulated bedtime was just under half an hour ago. Marco estimated he had maybe another handful of minutes before the nurses realized he was gone.

Whitebeard's answering pat to his shoulders was almost enough to pitch Marco overboard. His wings flared up, flapping to keep steady (and _really_ now, did he haveto hit so hard–) and nearly falling anyway when his flames illuminated a flash of curious red in the ripples. Marco's eyes caught and held on those tantalizing little flickers of bright scales.

At his side, Whitebeard shot him a look positively treacherous. "You look... _tired,_ son," He enunciated slowly, far louder than Marco needed– tone suspiciously restrained enough to make the phoenix freeze. "Maybe we should dock the old Moby at the next island. The 2nd division has been talking about restocking." Which was all bullshit, frankly. Whitebeard knew that Marco was more than fully aware of what they needed and when. What kind of flimsy excuse–

Whitebeard's eyes glittered. "Not to mention, We're in sore need of a party."

_"Pops!"_ Marco glared. "We don't need a–!" Another flicker below, a slick fin rising out of the dark ocean. It instantly disappeared, Ace's presence sinking a little deeper, but with the way it circled just under the surface– Marco lowered his voice. "I don't want to pressure him," He grumbled. "You _know_ that." They both knew that. The entire crew was all too aware of the kind of rift between species that had forced Namur into their family, and Fishman island under their flag.

Despite himself, he pushed his feathers back beneath his skin. Ace's image vanished back into the darkness. He was still _there,_ Marco was certain. Treading just below the waves. Marco could almost imagine how he looked, face turned skyward and fins fanned wide, skin dotted with wavering moonlight that caught on his scales. If Marco transformed, would he see those grey eyes staring back?

The phoenix coughed out a chirp when his captain picked him up, curling newly minted claws around a broad forearm. "We will dock in three days, and celebrate at the mouth of an ocean river," He declared, voice gruff with amusement, "Make sure you know what to say when we do."

* * *

AN

It's been two months.

uhhh asdbjfhekns thanks for waiting lmfao. i really struggled to pull this out bc ive been so focused on other fandoms but im still working ;;

most likely two more chapters! stay tuned.

As always, you can find me over at my tumblr, Leviathiane


	3. A hunt by any other name

It's beena solid coupla months, not that my work is very popular on ffn lmfao. were close to the end, folks. warnings for a brief flashback involving kidnapping, slavery, and child abuse.

* * *

Ace could taste where the ship was headed.

It was sharp, on his tongue. Strangely refreshing, even— the current carrying the freshwater was light and warm across his gills. Ace ran his claws through the liquid sunlight and purred loudly enough for it to bounce off the ship's bow back at him.

An island with a large inland river. his mind glowed with nostalgia. Of nights with his brothers, back in Goa. Of warm, dirty little human hands and sun-warmed scales, of ripped fins from years of dragging themselves over the shallow creeks to deeper jungle rivers. Soft beds of undisturbed river moss and the vibrating, singing purrs of frogs. The chance of rich, red meat not from a human— in fact, no humans at all. None except for Sabo, and the bandits. Just clean, running, light water over his skin, and the gentle caress of algae.

Freshwater smelled, even now, like a little bit of home.

He hoped Whitebeard's ship would be docked by the freshwater island. It would be risky, but if he went late enough at night, when the humans were asleep, and the inlet rivers were deep enough...

It had been a long time since Ace had so much as tasted freshwater, much less thought he could get a chance to swim in it.

There were always humans by freshwater. At least in the ocean, he could always sink down until no human could reach him— but freshwater was never deep enough. Even the deepest lakes had to end. The rivers connecting the lake to sea were risky at best, suicide at worst. They were just far too easy. Too susceptible for a tropical mer like him to be picked up from. It would be like scooping tadpoles from a creek. Not to mention freshwater often meant not just humans but human _cities_. Water Seven had been more than a nightmare to end up trapped in, darting from water-prison-contraption to the next.

At the very least, Ace knew no ship as big as the Moby could follow him inland.

Marco could fly after him, but no devil fruit user would dare touch the waves. Not even one under the fins of Yonko.

Somehow, the thought of him trying— of that bright, brilliant blue swooping uselessly at the surface, talons arching and unable to grip, made Ace feel like preening a little. He couldn't help an indulgent little flare of his fins. Being untouchable was intoxicating. Like he could flip clean out of the water in front of every pirate and marine in the world and not a single thing would be able to stop him from sparkling in the sunlight.

...Or in the moonlight. Ace's colors were toned to silver, in the dark, but his scales were no less healthy and reflective. Nothing short of isolation at the bottom of the sea would make him dull enough to be missed.

At least the distinctive sheen of orange could be disregarded as an odd fish rather than a mer. It rankled, only able to hunt during the night, but Ace would rather die than be spotted a second time. Not without another human fight to distract them, or something. If it meant going hungry during the daylight then he would just swim a little slower. His claws were more than long enough to carve a grip into the underside of the Moby, and his resolve and strength enough to remain clinging there for hours.

Ace watched, drifting as slowly as he dared underneath the surface, as the sun slowly went down.

He didn't want to think about why he was taking so much effort to bother. The hunger was easier. Hunger was familiar.

Tail swaying lazily, he waited.

* * *

(In the growing dark, without a warning flicker of blue, he was unable to make out Marco watching him from the railings— keen eyes pinned to every flickering sliver of sunset.)

* * *

He had been right. The island was spewing enough freshwater to nearly overpower the salt in his gills.

Ace was practically wiggling with satisfaction. Without anyone watching he was more than happy to do exactly that, rubbing his skin against the warm sand. Shallow water was so warm and rich even at night. He didn't even have to worry about random humans. The only ones on the entire island; or at least on that stretch of beach, were Whitebeards.

Ace wouldn't trust a single one of them as far as he could fling them, but he _did_ trust that they would effectively scare away any more humans. Not that he was even entirely sure there were other humans on the island. He had swum ahead just to check. The Moby was only just coming close enough for Ace's eyes to make out the familiar crest of Whitebeard's face— close enough that if there were any humans here to run, he would have long since noticed them fleeing.

Which meant he had, for at least that brief moment, a chance to enjoy the rolling waves and sun-soaked sands of a shoreline.

There was no way Ace was going to just give that up. Just lying in the surf was doing a fantastic job of rubbing off his older scales in favor of a shiny and steely new hide.

The Moby was approaching fast, though. Ace swore it sped up with the island in sight, gliding over the waves at a pace he wasn't sure he'd have been able to maintain for the days they had been sailing.

"Goddammit," he hissed, voice warbling and odd in the open air, and awkwardly flopped and clawed his way into deeper water. It wouldn't be for long. Once the ship had docked, and he was sure of where the crew would be exploring, he would be able to settle himself into the massive mouth of the freshwater river—

Ace's fins flared wide, freezing him aloft in the middle of the current as Moby's bow glided right up to the shore and past it.

_Where the fuck are they going._

It kept going. The ship sailed past Ace and into the delta. Without even scraping the sand, without even a pause.

_"Almost there, boys,"_ someone cackled. Ace could barely make it out with how muffled above the surface it was. _"We're almost at the lake!"_

Lake. A whole freshwater lake. One big enough to hold the Moby.

Ace shut his mouth, violently spitting out a chunk of drifting seaweed and sand. Every spine on his tail was rigid, poised like a weapon. His claws clenched wildly into the soft sand under his belly.

_They'll be inland. I get the outer island to myself. No one would dare come here while the Whitebeards are occupying. The entire coastline is mine for as long as they're staying. None of them will spot me hunting out in the ocean. I'm safe and they don't even know it._

Freshwater ran smooth and clean through his gills, almost as light as air and just as sweet.

It _rankled_. It made him want to _snarl_.

_Damn them. Goddamn them. Those fucking assholes must have planned this._

Ace swam in place, furious, tight circles that made the sand underneath him reflect a thousand warm hues. Any fish daring to swim close darted out of range of the hissing leviathan.

He was no pirate. He was no human.

Ace craved just as greedily as the worst of them.

* * *

"How long do you think it'll take him to swim upstream?" Thatch asked.

Marco flitted his eyes away from the river's mouth. "Don't know if he will," he admitted. Even as far inland as they were, he was still able to catch Ace's presence on the edge of the delta. It darted to and fro in place, almost seeming to vibrate at the ends of Marco's awareness. He didn't need powerful observational haki to recognize that the merman was furious. "He's followed us this far."

"Think he'll smell the meat I'm cookin' tonight?"

Marco briefly entertained the idea of steak floating down the river. Was that how merfolk smell worked, or would that be offensive? They should probably ask Namur first. "Maybe. Let's not push it."

A determined gleam sparkled in Thatch's eyes. The chef always did seem to take a new mouth as a challenge. Especially a new mouth as unique as Ace's, full of razor-sharp fangs— Marco swallowed thickly, trying a little uselessly to just listen to Thatch. "I'll make sure he can smell it, then." If he noticed Marco's lapse in attention there was no sign of it. Marco watched in bemusement as his brother pumped his fists in the air, hyping himself up as if gearing for a fight instead of a meal. "I hope he likes spices because I'm about to marinate this meat as red as his scales!"

"I'm sure he'll like it," Marco reassured. _If he even comes._ None of the crew were strangers to the paranoia Ace no doubt felt. They didn't need a strong grasp on haki to see the wariness or the fear. It was a sharp reminder of the kingdom they had left behind, blanketed under their mark. _I wonder if Ace had been there when we put the island under our protection. Probably not. He's too... withdrawn, I think, to have been anywhere near the mainland._

It would have been... _nice_ if he had been. Marco could imagine having met him there, instead of in the middle of nowhere— a bubble-clad mer, just as vibrant and beautiful as he was on the open ocean, a mouth full of teeth and the freckled skin around his eyes creased in a smile. Maybe there would have been none of that hesitance. Maybe Marco would have been able to take him to bed right then and there, basking in the easy affection of alliance and promised protection—

Ace's presence continued to circle, at the edge of his awareness. It was beginning to slow, however, becoming almost distracted seeming in motion. Marco scowled despite himself as the mer suddenly turned and shot out of his range into deeper waters.

He was just going to go catch a meal, he knew. Ace had been remarkably careful to only hunt when he thought they couldn't notice him. Not even a ripple in the water when the presence of a sea king blinked out beneath them. The mer wasn't giving up. Wasn't going anywhere. Wasn't leaving them and their efforts behind without even a goodbye.

(If he was, Marco would not fly out after him. He had a family to look after. There were other fish in the sea, why did he care so much about one merman's attention?)

Marco resolutely hopped onto the rail, curling his talons into the wood.

Watching the smooth surface of the lake, he waited.

* * *

_It's a trap. It's a trap._

The delta were the jaws of a sea king, luring him in to swallow him whole. There were teeth buried and hidden in the sand.

Ace couldn't see anything, of course. Had even poked his head out of the water once or twice (three times, four, six, twenty—) and seen nothing. Heard nothing.

_It's a trap._

But it had to be there.

He was sure the moment he gave in, and swam up the river into the "lake" supposedly there (there was. He could taste it. The water was tinged with algae carried from still water.) they would close in and the depths would become his cage. It was a blatant trap. How stupid did they think he was? They had a fishman on their crew, surely they knew he wouldn't just be some guppy that would fall for anything.

Ace poked his head above water. His ears weren't the best in the open air, but even he could easily pick up the loud, rampaging sounds of a party farther inland. If he jumped high enough, he'd probably be able to catch the glow of a bonfire over the trees. Even so far down the river, their laughter reached him.

_It's a trap._

They weren't coming. They had probably started partying hours before, probably even before sundown. This close to sunrise more than half of them were probably drunk enough to see triple already. Even more might have already passed out.

_It's a trap._

He could smell the lingering, wafting smoke of sizzling meat. Salty butter and cooking fish, roasting herbs. The water running sweet and light over his gills made Ace lick his lips, tonguing his fangs with frustration. If he managed to look away he swore the water might glisten with oil and fat of a rich, hot meal.

What kind of hunters would wait until dawn, wasting all their alcohol and food, just to lure in a single raggedy mer? What kind of hunters, even those as assured in their abilities as a Yonko crew, would get _drunk on a hunt?_ The Whitebeards were a high ranking sort of crew, but merfolk were the end-all of speed. Not even their fishman crewmate could hope to catch someone like Ace. Not to mention, they didn't _need_ the funds that just one merman slave could get them. If they did, they wouldn't have a fishman on the crew in the first place. A hunt wouldn't be a worthy investment.

Not to mention there wasn't a single glint of shackles or chains. Ace had looked. Namur was uncollared. His body language, his void, his expression— they held nothing but easy trust and affection for the humans he called his brothers.

_It's a trap. Don't talk yourself out of that. That's the first step to being caught._

Down under the ocean, there was no one to hear him but Ace. No humans listening in. No one to hide the truth from, if Namur needed help. Nothing to stop the fishman was rocketing off himself, into deeper waters where no human could follow him.

A strong breeze across the surface carried the tantalizing smell of cooking meat. Something beefy. Something Ace could never get, not in the ocean. Not hot and dripping with juice and melting fat. He wondered if they had bread. Maybe sweet bread. After a while of dragging your meals down, everything just tasted of iron and salt no matter how hard you dug in. Something sweet and savory. Maybe something spicy. He wanted to sink his teeth into whatever was cooking, jaw clicking quietly as he allowed the smoke to brush over the scent glands in the roof of his mouth and over his tongue.

It was still dark out. The sun wouldn't rise just yet. He was hidden. Concealed. A fast-moving shadow in the water, as indiscernible as any clump of seaweed or large fish.

_I'm hungry._

Ace was sick of constantly watching.

He dove into the delta.

The water felt lighter than air over his scales. It rushed through his gills until he felt lightheaded with it, sweet as summer and crisp with the nostalgic memory of mountain streams and clean, clear running jungle rivers. The delta was deeper than any of the paths he had explored as a child. It was almost unnerving, retracing a scene that encompasses his entire childhood and yet missing that familiar grind of riverbed stones under his stomach, or curling between tree roots.

It felt a little like freedom.

Ace snapped his fins harder.

The fall from the river into the vast cavern that could be called more a sea than a lake almost made him shriek. It ran _deep_. Deeper than any lake he had ever seen. Deep enough that if he sunk to the bottom not even sunlight could hope to expose him.

The jaws of the delta faded in its grip around his throat. Just a little. Enough to close his gills and poke above the surface.

Even in the dark, the hulking silhouette of the Moby Dick stood like a mountain. Ace could just make it out from the rest of the darkness from where it rested across the lake, settled just close enough to the shore for the pirates to hit the sand. They were too far for Ace to make out any individuals or their faces–– his eyes just weren't suited to the dark. But the bonfire he had seen from the outskirts of the island was massive and bright. Even from his distance Ace would have believed it if he was told they had managed to lug a star out onto the shoreline. He could almost swear to feel the warmth against his cheekbones.

Ace swam closer, unable to tear his eyes away.

Fishman island wasn't _entirely_ underwater. It wasn't like they couldn't have fire too. Cooked food wasn't something only meant for surface people.

But when was the last time Ace had found his way into one of those air pockets? Into space where he was comfortable to wait the time it took to light a fire, to cook a meal?

His people had not wanted him for a reason.

But these were not his people. The Whitebeards were– majority wise– _human_. Air-breathing, surface-dwelling humans. Many of the biggest threats were devil fruit users. Ace was untouchable to them. Even if Namur was poisoned (as he could be, as he _had_ to be, to stay willingly with such a powerful group of pirates) not even a fishman's speed could outmatch a mer's.

Warmth, on his skin. Sparkling like condensed sunlight off the scales peppering his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his brow. It felt like soaking in summer itself. Almost better than the warmth of coastal, shallow shores, or spring tide pools.

Ace practically purred when raising his shoulders above the water doused them in that same heat. His earfins waggled happily, flicking lingering lake water. His skin already felt too dry, already aching with hot open air. He loved it.

No one was watching. He drifted a little closer, fins not even making a ripple in the lake. Sand just barely brushed past the tip of his tail where it floated up under him.

The laughter and yelling had slowly become even quieter during his move up the river. The growing quiet made him want to press a little lower, but Ace could just make out the pirates left on the shore to be mostly... passed out. Face up to the moon, snoring into the sand. Things he assumed were hammocks were lazily strung between the various trees scattering the edge of the shoreline. His nose worked better in the water but there was no mistaking the underlying and powerful stench of alcohol underneath the aroma of still cooking food.

Saliva pooled in his mouth.

Ace ducked down. After so long staring at the fire the water felt heavenly on his drying skin, revitalizing the delicate membrane of his ear fins and washing over his opening gills along his throat. The clean pull of oxygen did wonders to clear his senses.

He couldn't... wasn't. Wasn't strong enough. Wasn't _brave_ enough. The memories of his childhood were like an anchor wrapped around his tail. Before, the nobles of Goa had been opportunists of the worst kind he had ever met. The accumulative example of human greed. The kind that were never satisfied no matter how much they trampled and took. Not even _Sabo_ had been enough for them to swallow. Always more. Always more.

(It had to be a trap. Humans always wanted more. Always. When Sabo was gone, when he and Luffy were left grieving and pretending to be safe, they had come back for the rest of their prizes.)

If he closed his eyes Ace could see Luffy against the black of the eyelids. Could hear him hissing and writhing against his chains. The brilliant sun and honey yellow of his scales scratchy and dull, scattered across the cage where reaching hands had carelessly torn them from his skin. He could feel the cool touch of glass against a stinging shoulder. The curve of a tank. The weight of a collar––

Maybe bravery didn't even have anything to do with it after all.

Ace sank a little lower into the tide, unable to help the way his ear fins had folded down against his head. It had already felt like some sort of betrayal to consider the lake as Not a trap. He didn't have it in him to hope for any better. Hope was deceitful and disarming and... he just _couldn't_. Even if they didn't see him like that; even if they were like Sabo had been–– there were always more humans _not_ like Sabo. There were always more chains than Ace could drag behind him. There were always more collars and cages.

Always, always, always.

Ace slipped below the surface and sank listlessly until he could curl right there in the sand.

When the sun rose, he would be visible. Too close to the shallows for the depths to hide the glow of his scales. Too close to the pirates that would wake on the shore.

It was too much to think about. He ached without exercise.

Ace fanned his tail fin wide and did his best to duck beneath it.

_No matter what, it's always coming to this, huh Luffy? Waiting or hiding. Hiding or waiting. I don't know how you survived this long without managing to do much of either–– and yet you look up to someone like me._

The light of the bonfire flickered like sunlight through the breaking waves, as deep a red as Ace's own scales. At the very least, it was soothing. Even something so unattainable still managed to touch him.

_I'm sick of being alone._

Laughter still rumbled above, muffled vibrations against his ear fins. Ace could still smell the ever-present scent of cooking meat. It saturated his tongue so thickly he almost felt like he was sinking his teeth into something juicy and––

Ace snapped upright, sand flying up around him.

_I _can_ taste it._

He poked his tongue out between his fangs. The current carried something spicy on it, heavy with something salty-savory even diluted from the lake. It brushed across the roof of his mouth with every draw inward, pulling him up towards the surface almost in a daze. Ace had already eaten. He had hunted down two fairly sized sea kings before even approaching the delta– and taken care to whittle them down to nothing but bone. He had taken every precaution.

The hunger still gnawed. His body gravitated, always, to the next starving mouthful.

Sand slid under his belly. Ace laid flat in the shore, fins splayed wide and tall to catch every little disturbance in the water, hypervigilant of the slightest ripple. Swimming so close to the land would instantly catch the attention of any pirates still awake– or sober. He awkwardly managed to drag himself further up the beach, claws barely managing to catch in the loose sand.

Nothing disturbed him. The sounds of laughter had only become quieter, the beach slowly more empty. The boisterous laughter had moved deeper into the forest. Some of it still echoed from the ship itself, many of the crew no doubt returning to their cabins to properly sleep off their partying instead of passing out on the sand.

Ace swore there were even fewer pirates snoring into the shore than there were before. He had been too far away to even try to count before, though, so he just peered through his dripping hair and kept moving. Now mostly beached, the smell was– indescribable. It was _strong_. Even above water, without the current to carry it over his tongue, it made his stomach growl. His eyes zeroed in on the several abandoned meals left scattered around the bonfire. Getting too close to the fire would surely hurt, would leave his scales flaking and his skin stretched uncomfortable and tight, but...

"Do you want some?"

A blue flare of light to his right and Ace _snarled_, flipping his tail instinctively out of the surf and showering the definite devil fruit user in water.

"You–! Hey, I'm not, _stop that, yoi!_ I'm not gonna attack you!"

Blonde hair, blue eyes. A familiar (and now soaked through) purple shirt, a bright blue sash. The light of the bonfire reflected off his belt into Ace's eyes and made him squint, pausing to stare.

"Ma, Mah––" His words whistled through his open gills. Ace swallowed in annoyance and forced them to flutter shut. "Marco."

If the human was annoyed at being dripping wet, he didn't show it. Marco grinned, shoulders loosening. "Hey. Good to see you again. Want some food? We've got a lot of extra."

There was a plate in his hands, carefully protected and dry behind his back. Ace could smell it. He didn't move. Even after being splashed with enough water to drown a man, Marco hadn't faltered. His posture remained carefree and easy. Relaxed in Ace's presence. No move to raise a weapon towards him.

But also no buckled knees or shaking hands. No weak grimace. Most devil fruit humans would have _crumbled_ under the amount of water Ace had just sent his way. Was this the difference between a Whitebeard pirate and normal humans? Were they all this strong?

_This was a bad idea. Really bad. If they're all like this, I– I'm not sure I could–_

Marco raised an eyebrow. Sighing loudly, he sat down right where he stood, seeming to miss (or ignore?) the way Ace dug his claws into the sand to avoid instinctively scrambling back. The plate of food (still steaming. Ace could see it, god he wanted it) plopped to the ground between them. _"Hey,"_ He said again, quieter. "We're not going to attack you."

Ace hissed. He couldn't help it. The dorsal spines all raised along his tail, sharp and glinting in the light, but Marco didn't even have the polite good sense to appear phased. If anything, his expression was _intrigued_. For a good, long couple of seconds just seeing it was enough to make Ace push back a foot, not risking a moment of comfort even as the waves caressed his lower gills.

It was, somehow, that same unbroken composure in face of his retreat, that stopped him from outright slipping away.

Not a glimmer of panic. Ace had seen true poachers flail for less. This pirate, Marco, looked more than fine if Ace stayed or did not. As if he didn't even really matter. Either way, he would have good food and good company.

_Suit yourself,_ his eyes said.

His spines slowly laid flat. Ace licked his lips, eyes risking flickering to the offered plate as he lowered his tail back down into the water.

Marco didn't move a single muscle when Ace shot forward, snatching the food back towards him. It took an odd wiggle to reach, his thrashing causing a loud splashing sound that made his heart race, but so far he had a meal in his claws and no gun aimed at him. "I could rip your throat out," He growled for good measure. "This doesn't mean anything."

The bastard just smiled at him. It made Ace want to smack him. Or bite him. That'd teach him. "Whatever you say, yoi."

He bristled at that, but the tone wasn't, in truth, patronizing. If anything Marco looked invigorated at the thought of fighting him. As if the idea of crossing talons with Ace was just as interesting as gossip over lunch.

A tiny thrill sparked through his stomach, quick as lightning. Ace ignored it in favor of stuffing whatever was in his claws down his gullet.

Savory. Juicy. _Hot_.

_"Oh."_ Ace moaned loudly as his teeth dug into meat, crunching straight through bone with a satisfyingly loud series of cracks. Fat melted on his tongue, sauce dripping down his chin. It was almost too hot– though it had cooled enough to not even be steaming, when compared to the natural chill of Ace's body everything tasted as if it had been taken straight off an open flame. _"Oh, fuck yeah."_

It was gone too soon. A leviathan or two back during daylight couldn't hope to curb the hunger he felt now. Ace pried open his eyes, unsure when they had shut, and almost smiled at Marco.

_"More."_

The pirate shivered.

Without arguing, the pirate stood and walked jerkily back towards the remains of the bonfire, reaching for more of the food left out. Ace pushed himself up on his elbows to properly watch as his tanned skin became warm and golden under the firelight, the curve of his jaw clenched and cheekbones high and flushed pink.

Ace was no stranger to greed or hunger. _All_ types of it. There was never any missing it, and there was never any enjoying it. All that came with that sort of salivating was pain.

He watched Marco get him more food, a fine tremor running through his careful, powerful hands. Those blue eyes seemed to glow when they turned on him. Bright as the bonfire itself. Bright and focused, in their intensity, entirely on Ace.

He felt no fear. His fins raised unconsciously, body curling to better reflect every sparkling scale in the dying light. Ace purred his thanks when that plate was again offered- set down, pushed away. Left in his reach, while Marco himself gracefully sat back in his little divet of sand.

_What a considerate human._

Ace's stomach twisted with hunger. He sat the plate aside. Eating was not something that required all of his attention. He was adept as a multitasker.

"Hey," he asked, cleanly casual. The slightest bite to his words. Just to prove a point. Just to prove that he wasn't some pet lured in with kibble. (Just to watch the way Marco's throat rippled when he swallowed, his body instinctively shifting in response.) "What do you get by talking to me?"

_Lie to me, and I'll know,_ he didn't say. _Lie to me, and I'll strike right for your throat. Teeth around your adam's apple, claws in your ribcage. I hope you can feel my eyes pinned to it. I hope you trick yourself into thinking healing and power will stop me from hurting you._

And he would. Ace had been, in his opinion, remarkably polite to stray so close. The slightest hint of blood and the water and he would open his mouth and _sing_ if he had to.

Marco smiled at him. It was near effortlessly composed. Mature and patient in all the ways that made Ace boil despite how it piqued his interest. "I would like to get to know you, if you'd let me," He responded easily. Barely a sign of his unease. The previous intent had been delicately packaged and compartmentalized, it seemed.

Ace's eyes honed in on the sweat beading on the back of Marco's neck. He could smell the salt even in the open air. With so long in freshwater, his body was hypersensitive for it.

He licked his lips, carefully sliding his tongue over the sharp points of his incisors. Marco stiffened. His eyes did not follow the movement. The scent of salt became stronger.

Ace dug his claws into the salt, grounding himself. He was suddenly all too aware of how dry his skin now was, of how hard his heart was beating.

_It's a trap._

"You look a little warm," Ace offered breathlessly. Air whistled through his gills and he fought to shut them again. He needed to return to the water. What were two birds with one stone? "Why don't you take a dip? The water's great."

No human would ever get in the water with a mer. Even the stupidest human alive would take one look at Ace, and his claws and teeth, and run away from that final plunge. Survival instinct would be to turn and not look back.

"Okay."

Marco transformed, flying over the lake into deeper water.

Ace blinked twice before a wide grin split his face. Shoving away from the shore and sliding back into the waves was one of the easiest things he had ever done in his life. It took barely more than a single flick of his tail to race after that blue glow.

_It's a trap. He's taken my bait._

Ace wasn't entirely sure who was winning. Did this count as a stalemate? One threat above water, one circling below?

Marco stilled, hesitating above the surface. Ace fanned his fins wide and steady and popped his head up, blinking lake water out of his view of the phoenix. So far out, he was like a sole star burning in the center of Ace's darkness. Held just above the cliff of the last test.

No human would ever swim with a mer.

He ducked below water. Merfolk only needed a scant few seconds to make a proper run-up. Marco was high, unphased, untouchable. The lone star in the sky. The cool sun above cold water, afraid to take the last steps into the unfeeling surf.

Ace curled in on himself in the water, the muscles in his tail bunching powerfully and fins snapping tight to his body.

He came arcing high out of the water, violent and bright as a spray of blood in the air, and tore the bird right out of the sky.


End file.
